


Curry sandwiches and pop rings

by korereapers



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers
Summary: It’s February 13th and Eddie already feels like the year cannot end soon enough.He is just there, lost, having divorced his wife months ago, trying to discern what’s him and what’s a product of a life lived in fear. Where he starts and where his mother ends. He knows something, though, even if he is struggling to accept it himself.He is in love with Richie Tozier, and has been for as long as he can remember.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55
Collections: Writers Revolution Be My Valentine 2021





	Curry sandwiches and pop rings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [richietoaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/richietoaster/gifts).



> Hey Sara! *drops this* CATCH!

It’s February 13th and Eddie already feels like the year cannot end soon enough.

He knows how it works, rationally. He has Stan to remind him that no, time is not linear, that time itself is just something abstract that human beings put tracks to. The year doesn’t get better because it ends and starts anew. Happiness is not suddenly more important because it’s Christmas. Love isn’t in the air because it’s almost Valentine’s Day, because love is also an abstract concept.

Dealing in abstracts has always been a little too hard for him. Stan appreciates the sentiment as they talk about it, and Mike just smiles, because that’s more of his area of expertise. He looks amazing, smiling like that with them all, like it’s his lifelong dream made true. 

Maybe it is.

Eddie understands the feeling. He really does.

They’re all just drinking together on Stan's porch in Atlanta. Birds are chirping, and Stan can identify every single one of them even without having to look at them. Patty smiles, a glass of lemonade between her hands.

“The baby likes it,” she chuckles, excusing herself like everyone doesn’t know that she has a sweet tooth. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

Bill looks at her belly with unreadable eyes, and of course it’s Richie who breaks the silence before it gets too uncomfortable.

“As if anyone needed any excuse to drink pure sugar with only a drop of lemon juice.”

Bev cheers to that, her fiery hair burning against the sunlight, and Ben’s expression gets even softer when he looks at her. They are close, very close, in ways that should remind Eddie of Myra and himself when they were still married, but don’t. Not really. Never have.

It’s kind of sad to think about, really. Stan and Patty are expecting their first child, and Ben and Bev are finally together after almost thirty years. Bill and Audra are redefining their relationship, and healing. Mike is finally getting out of Derry, ready to rediscover the world, far from his books and a doomed shithole; from their childhood fears.

And Richie? God, Richie. Richie is being brave enough to publicly embrace who he is after decades of building his public persona on something he loathes.

But, Eddie. 

Eddie is just there, lost, having divorced his wife months ago, trying to discern what’s him and what’s a product of a life lived in fear. Where he starts and where his mother ends. He knows something, though, even if he is struggling to accept it himself.

He is in love with Richie Tozier, and has been for as long as he can remember.

He has a hard time accepting it. Not as a kid, because as a kid things were simpler, less convoluted, clearer than day. The sewers had made everything darker, but it’s not as if their darkness had come out of nowhere. No, Eddie cannot blame the clown for this, not his mother, not even Richie if he tried hard enough.

This is all his fault, and denying otherwise would be like giving in to the high pitched voice in his head that tells him that he is on the verge of rotting alive at any time.

But Richie, god,  _ Richie _ . Richie’s dark eyes are hidden behind his glasses, always privy to something that Eddie doesn’t quite understand and Richie doesn’t feel like sharing. His smile looks a little crooked, and his teeth are a little too big.

Eddie doesn’t really know when he started looking at him like that. As kids, it was usually Bill, Big Bill, Eddie’s dark grey eyes following him everywhere. He should have interpreted it as the crush it was, silly and childish, but still a crush. Everyone was crushing on Bill before they even knew what love was. That was just the way it worked.

But Richie, Richie had looked at him, even back then. And Eddie had liked it, he had liked it a lot, the nicknames, the warmth of Richie’s hand on his own. On his hair.

_ Don’t let other boys touch you _ , the voice inside of his head had said. It reminded Eddie a lot of his own mother’s, but it was also his, in a way.

If other boys touched him, he would rot and die. The mere thought had made him want to scratch his skin until it felt clean, as a kid. As an adult, he just takes a sip from his glass of lemonade, eyes darkened, expression sad and weak, like his mother used to love.

He feels a pair of eyes on him, and he immediately feels startled. Ben’s gentle expression greets him, and Eddie’s neck feels hot. He has been discovered, and the child that still lives in him would be tempted to cry, but he does the adult thing and smiles weakly, trying to get out of trouble.

With Ben, though, that never works. He knows about pining from afar as much as Eddie does, maybe even more. It’s just that his story has a happy ending, and Eddie’s doesn’t. There is  _ no way _ it does.

There’s something about Ben’s face that tells him that they will talk about this later. Eddie is frankly dreading it, but if Ben’s something, he’s stubborn about trying to help others. Bev touches Ben’s arm, and he just smiles at her. She then looks at Eddie, like she knows everything.

Eddie just takes another sip from his drink.

“Let him be, it’s funnier like this.” Bev says, looking at Ben but clearly talking about Eddie.

Bill raises an eyebrow, his third glass of lemonade almost empty already.

“What’s funny?”

And Bev does the most mature thing, obviously.

“Your face is funny.”

Ben starts laughing, like she has said the funniest thing in the world. Eddie would be tempted to laugh if he didn’t know what’s waiting for him. A whole conversation about how he deserves happiness, how he has been denying himself for so long, and blah, blah, blah. He  _ knows _ . That doesn’t mean it isn’t weird to go to your crush of thirty years and tell them you’re madly in love with him. Which is ironically what Ben and Bev did, back in the day.

_ Sappy bastards _ . He is so envious of them.

* * *

  
  


The place smells of food that Eddie cannot identify, but the way in which Richie wiggles his eyebrows is like a silent promise. Richie believes that he is going to love the place, and Eddie trusts Richie with his whole life.

He cannot remember the name of the place, but it sounded like one of those places where Eddie never went to back when he lived in New York. The style and aesthetic does remind him of those cafés, but it all feels a little weird in the middle of Californian heat.

Eddie doesn’t really miss New York as a whole, but there are parts of it that he never dared to explore, so he is grateful in a way.

The waitress looks calm when she takes their order, not overworked and stressed out like Eddie is so used to.

“You’d love the curry sandwich,” Richie assures him with an enigmatic smile that quickly becomes a genuine one. “It has turkey, apples and… well, curry.”

“How do you know I’d love it?” Eddie asks after agreeing with him without a second thought.

“Because I know you.” Richie answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He quickly realises how intimate that sounded, and he gets a little tense, making himself look smaller, shoulders a little hunched over, his smile faltering a little.

Eddie hates seeing him like that, ashamed of himself, not showing the world how big his presence can be. The same man who gets the attention of everyone as he steps on the stage shouldn’t feel like that for having one man’s attention.

So of course, Eddie does the only reasonable thing.

He takes one of Richie’s hands. It’s their first date, the first time they are alone like this in public. He gets why Richie would be nervous, because he shares the sentiment. He is scared, too. Everyone's a little scared, deep down, that’s what he has learned after fighting his darkest demons, after starting living a more or less fulfilling life.

“I know I’m going to love it, Rich.”

Richie looks handsome when his face relaxes. His eyes look bright when he looks at Eddie, like it’s the first time, like he’s as amazed by him as Eddie is. Like Eddie is not this neurotic mess, but rather someone admirable, someone strong.

As kids, Eddie always thought of Richie as strong, capable. As adults, he wants to give Richie back some of that strength, too.

They hold hands like this until their order arrives. Richie’s hands are warm against his own, and Eddie realises that he doesn’t really want to let go, even if he has to.

Of course, Richie was right. The sandwich tastes amazing, and it becomes Eddie’s favorite.

* * *

The thing about having known someone for like thirty years, it’s that it’s difficult to hide something from them. No matter how good you are at it, like in Richie’s case.

But if Richie’s good at hiding, Stan is absolutely fucking amazing at finding just enough light to decipher him.

Richie looks like a mess when he thinks that nobody’s looking. He looks relaxed, but also the saddest Stan has ever seen him, with his big shoulders hunched, dark eyes a little lighter, raw and exposed because he has nothing to lose. The kitchen is dimly lit, and Richie looks like he is haunting his house with that expression of his.

Stan is tired of the supernatural, though. And of haunted houses.

Stan doesn’t like the paradox of hating to see him like this, and wishing Richie let his true self out more often. Stan likes when things are simple, when there is a ring and a flower and a smile, an effusive  _ yes _ , because nobody is trying to hide their true feelings.

With Richie, hiding is as natural and automatic as breathing.

“You should tell him.”

Richie jumps in place, his body getting rigid again, eyes open wide. His shoulders almost reach his ears, and Stan sighs softly.

“Don’t worry. It’s just me.”

Richie doesn’t seem to relax much, though. The fear in his eyes is evident, and Stan's heart breaks a little, because this is his best friend, because even as kids, this fear of being discovered wasn’t this strong. Because Richie, as a young boy, had dared to carve his love for everyone to see, because he had to tell someone, but as adults the secret keeps him rotting from the inside.

Stan knows what it feels like, letting something eat you to your marrow. The scars on his wrists are proof of that.

He just cannot let Richie waste himself away like that.

“Richie,” he insists, getting closer, slowly. Richie is taller and a little bigger, but tense as he is, he looks around Stan’s height.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stanley.”

The name hits him like a wall of bricks. With Richie, it’s always Stan, Staniel, or any ridiculous nickname he can think of. Rage boils inside of Stan, because even if he understands, it’s not fair. It’s not fair for him to want to help and Richie to snap at him like this. He breathes in, and then out.

He loves Richie, he really does. But sometimes, he is such an ass.

“Let me know when you’re ready to hear the goddamn truth then, Trashmouth.”

Richie’s eyes are slightly wet, he can see them even in the slight darkness. He is scared, of having hurt him, of having fucked up.

Stan knows it does take a whole lot of courage and strength to apologize, but he also knows that Richie is brave and strong. Braver and stronger than he believes he is.

“I’m sorry, Stan. It’s just…” Richie starts after a deep sigh. He massages the bridge of his nose, and Stan can tell that the tension is giving him a headache. Headaches used to be his and Eddie’s thing, sometimes Bill’s.

“It’s difficult, I know,” Stan murmurs, touching one of Richie’s shoulders and gesturing for him to sit down. Richie obeys without a second thought, which is always a bad sign.

“You know? Damn, Stan,” Richie answers, his voice awfully fond even in the middle of the deep desperation. “You and Patty… I can’t imagine you feeling like I do at the moment.”

Stan smiles at that, sadly, because Richie has no idea. So smart sometimes, such a fucking dumbass about what should be easy.

“So you admit it.”

“God, shut up.”

Stan sits down, a half smile on his face. His eyes are warm when he looks at Richie, a helping hand in the middle of his own internal darkness.

“Admit it. You owe me for being such a rude asshole in my own fucking house.”

That does make Richie react. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Many times, like a dying goldfish. It almost makes Stan laugh.

“What the everloving  _ fuck _ , Stan.”

“Admit it, Richie.”

Richie raises his hands, defeated, an exasperated expression on his face. Stan didn’t know he could even roll his eyes like that. That has always been Stan’s thing. How the tables have turned.

“Okay, okay, you win. I’m in love with Eddie motherfucking Kaspbrak. No pun intended, given-”

“Richie. Beep-beep.”

“ _ Okay _ .”

They are silent for some seconds. Stan enjoys the quietness of his own house, always has. Richie seems deep in thought, so he almost feels bad for interrupting it.

“It wasn’t as easy as you think it was.”

Richie blinks, slowly.

“Come again?”

Stan entwines his fingers, not looking at Richie.

“With Patty. It wasn’t that easy. I was scared. She was, too.”

Richie looks at him in disbelief, but he knows better than to doubt Stan; than to tell him what a confident man he is; that fear feels alien to him. Bright and untouchable by its darkness. He knows better, because Stan’s scars are still visible, and will be maybe forever. That maybe, Stan is the one with the lowest tolerance to fear out of all of them.

“You still married her, though.”

Stan nods, his mind fuzzy, eyes unfocused even as he smiles slightly.

“I just thought that she was worth it. Every effort, every ounce of bravery I could have.”

Richie just looks at him, speechless, his eyes lighter, like Stan remembers them when they were kids.

“She was worth it.”

And then, the room falls silent.

* * *

  
  


Eddie sounds like an angel when he laughs. It’s high pitched and sweet, like when they were kids. Richie loves to make him laugh, loves to know that Eddie is looking at him, paying attention to him. That he can make slightly melancholic Eddie Kaspbrak laugh until he gets breathless, truly breathless, until his hides hurt and his eyes well up in the best way.

Richie forgets about the joke as soon as he hears Eddie laugh, because the joke never mattered to begin with, it's just means to an end, and the end is that Eddie is happy, that he looks beautiful, finally calm after years of fear and crushing stress. 

Eddie looks younger, and not just in the slightly childish way that he has always been. He doesn’t look tired, chained to a life he hates. 

He is finally free, and can share everything he is and everything he has with the ones he chooses. And Richie, god, Richie is just so happy to be one of the chosen ones.

They have talked about marriage, many times actually. Richie never really considered getting married, not before going back to Derry. He had had short relationships, many flings and one night stands, but nobody that made him think that he wanted to tie the knot and share his life with someone forever. Of course there was his old girlfriend, Sandy, but she always understood. She understood him way before Richie himself was able to.

She deserved better than the unhappiness that Richie was bringing her. And with time, Richie realized that  _ he  _ did, too.

_ Now is my chance _ , Richie reminds himself. Years of therapy have helped him to accept happiness as a whole. To stop hiding behind different voices and faces. To drop the façade and be himself, and be with the ones he wants to be the most.

They are alone in their favorite restaurant. Eddie’s face is full of curry, but he doesn’t hurry to clean it like he used to. He does it calmly, enjoying the moment, and Richie has never felt more in love with him.

So of course, he does what he has to do.

He knows that Eddie doesn’t really like big gestures, so he doesn’t try to attract anyone’s attention. The staff is busy inside of the kitchen, so Richie makes his move, taking out a small box from his pocket.

And like that, Eddie gasps, an excited smile on his lips.

“Richie… you…”

Richie opens the tiny, black box, trying his hardest not to laugh. It’s Eddie’s laugh what makes it all worth it. It reverberates, flowing like a river, free and unashamed. Richie wants to kiss him, but he waits, patiently, until Eddie speaks.

“I can’t believe… I can’t believe you did this,” Eddie finally says, rubbing the corners of his eyes, both amused and excited.

He puts on the ring, its huge, candy jewel standing out on his slender fingers. He looks beautiful like this, his grey eyes shining when he looks at the pop ring, like it’s some kind of treasure.

“You can’t believe it?”

“No, sorry. Actually,  _ I can _ .”

Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to stop smiling, and god if that doesn’t make Richie’s heart melt. He holds Eddie’s hand, just because he feels like it, not trying to rush him, but to anchor him a little.

“Yes!” Eddie blurts out, still looking at the ring.

“Yes?”

“Jesus, Richie.  _ Yes _ .”

Richie laughs, teasing him a little, his hand sweetly caressing Eddie’s palm. It’s soft, and he kind of does want to hold it forever.

“We sure suck at this whole being vocal about our feelings thing, don’t we?”

Eddie smiles at that, not saying a word, but not daring to deny it. So of course, Richie tries… well, the Richie approach.

“Speaking about sucking…” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “Would you let me suck on your… pop ring?”

And god, the way in which Eddie laughs surely sounds divine. Like pure, unadulterated joy. He then looks around, slightly nervous, his neck blushing, slightly afraid of having made a scene, but enjoying every second of it.

Richie absolutely loves it when Eddie looks all flustered like this. Still Eddie, but free. Happier than ever. With him, forever.

* * *

  
  


Eddie feels like garbage.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate his friends, or their advice. He does, deeply. He loves them more than he has ever loved anyone, more than he loves himself. He would die for them in a heartbeat, without thinking about it twice.

Still, being in the middle of both Ben’s and Bev’s advice for hours the night before hasn’t been the best for his already tired and buzzing mind. Well, Ben’s advice, and Bev’s… whatever her gentle pats on Eddie’s back were. He suspects that Bev’s lemonade wasn’t lemonade at all.

“Tell him. It’s worth it. You’ll see,” Ben had told him. Eddie had never been too good at lying, and was too tired to get defensive. So, against his better judgement, he had promised them to try.

So there he was. Already shaking, drinking a glass of milk even if his body demanded coffee. He wasn’t going to risk a heart attack, not like this. He couldn’t die of stress after fighting a pedophage clown from space. It would be ridiculous. He can do this. He can. Do this.

“Hey Eds,” he hears Richie say, and he almost chokes on his milk.

“Christ,” he mutters, his voice rash, coughing slightly. He is going to die by choking on milk, it seems. “I’m sorry, Rich. I hadn’t realised you were here.”

Richie just smiles at him, but his expression seems…  _ off _ . Like something is worrying him, even more than usual. As kids, Richie was a mystery to Eddie, in a way. He was funny, he was nice, and Eddie felt drawn to him inexplicably. Similar to what he felt towards Bill, but different. He didn’t understand why, but now he knows well enough.

Richie used to look carefree when they were children, but as adults, even that illusion seems to be fragile.

“Something wrong?” he asks, genuinely worried. Richie sits in front of him, after a big sigh and cracking his back a couple of times. Eddie’s nose wrinkles a little, but he starts laughing. He always does, when it’s about Richie.

“You’re a sweetheart, but I could be asking you the same thing, you know,” Richie answers, a smile on his lips. Eddie surprises himself thinking about kissing them.

“Ah, I…” Eddie mumbles, feeling his neck getting hot. “I couldn’t sleep well.”

Richie lets out a weak chuckle, and Eddie perks up at the sound. Like a teenager in love.

_ Sappy bastard _ .

“That makes two of us then.”

There’sbeat. Two. None of them knows what to say, or if they should ask about it.

“Actually,” Richie says, uncharacteristically serious as he takes Eddie’s glass and drinks a little of milk, smiling slightly when Eddie squints, trying his hardest not to tell him how unsanitary the gesture is. “I wanted to tell you something.”

_ Oh _ .

Eddie’s heart is beating faster.

“I… actually wanted to tell you something, too.”

Richie blinks at him, slowly, like he’s trying to process something, and Eddie feels himself panicking.

“You go first, Eds.”

“Richie…”

“Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t call you that, blah, blah, blah. I love it when you get all flustered.”

There is a moment of silence between them. Eddie’s dark greyish eyes look at Richie with both wonder and surprise. Richie’s lower lip is shaking slightly, suddenly tense.

“You… you  _ what _ ?”

“Forget I said a-”

Eddie stands up, making the table move a little.

“No, sir, I won’t. You said you love…” he starts, his voice more high pitched than usual. “Why?”

Richie groans, massaging his forehead, and he makes a sound that sounds somewhere between chuckle and a whimper.

“I fucked up.” It’s everything that Richie manages to say. “I’m sorry, Eds… Eddie. What were you saying?”

“Richie. Oh, my god.” Eddie blurts out, and like that, he is grabbing Richie’s shirt, pulling him closer.

It’s the clumsiest, most impulsive kiss any of them has ever had. It lasts only a moment, there is no tongue, no teeth, nothing. The kind of kiss they could have had when they were thirteen, but didn’t. They both taste like milk, their chins slightly stained. Messier than it should be.

It’s perfect.

Until Eddie lets him go, visibly mortified, redder than it should be healthy, his hands shaking so much that Richie just  _ has  _ to hold them even before Eddie dares to utter an apology.

Richie smiles at him, warm and assuring, and Eddie’s eyes well up in a second.

“Richie… I… you…”

“Yeah. I mean…  _ yeah _ .”

Richie’s lips are on Eddie’s hands, kissing them softly. Calmly, given the circumstances. Even after having waited for almost thirty years, it all feels new, unexplored territory.

Eddie really wants to cry.

“Fucking  _ finally _ !”

They both almost jump at the familiar voice. They’ve been caught  _ in fraganti _ , but none of them even dares to move.

Beverly looks at them from the kitchen door frame, with Ben timidly showing his face from behind her shoulder. They look adorable, Eddie decides. In a weird kind of way.

Ben waves from behind Beverly, a smile on his gentle face.

“Hi, guys. Glad to see it worked out well.”

They both almost snort at Ben’s sweetness. But holding hands as they are, they decide not to wave back.

Their hands are soft and warm against each other. It feels like they should have been like this, glued together, for a long time.

After all this time, none of them wants to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this IS a Valentine's fic
> 
> Hmu at korereapers on tumblr/twitter. And yeah, the restaurant is actually... one of my faves irl. We have a NY style cafe/restaurant in my city. The sandwiches are amazing. Eddie deserves that. AND SO DO I, I miss it, I can't go due to lockdown but. I'll be waiting. I hope they're okay! I hope you all are safe, too


End file.
